Myths of Azkaban: Legend of the Lord
by Constance Truggle
Summary: Who is the Lord of Azkaban? And what power does he hold? Response to the Caer Azkaban Challenge posted on the Caer Azkaban Yahoo!Group.
1. Prologue: Warding Azkaban

Caer Azkaban Challenge.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anyone, -thing, -place, or object from the Potterverse. JK Rowling does. This is a Not For Prophet story. Yes, that was intentional.

**Prologue: The Warding of Azkaban**

The Lord of Azkaban awaited his guests with slight impatience and an immense amount of excitement. Finally! The Castle Azkaban was complete, and the Isle needed only a visit from the Hogwarts Four to complete the rest of the preparations. Lord Azkaban was anxious to see his old friend Salazar again.

He ceased his pacing when a guard informed him of the arrival of the Four. He spun on his heel and followed the guard to the entrance. Salazar Slytherin moved forward and grasped Azkaban's hand in his own.

"My friend, it is good to see you again. You have not tamed the nest atop your head yet, I see," Salazar spoke by way of greeting.

Azkaban laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. "And you have yet to tame your serpent, I hear."

Salazar smiled good-naturedly. "He is confined to his chamber . . . as of yet."

One of the two ladies, Helga Hufflepuff, raised an eyebrow at her friend's statement while Godric Gryffindor merely smirked.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

After resting for the evening and restoring their energies, the five met again at the entrance. Rowena Ravenclaw took charge.

"To perform the warding, we need the blood of Azkaban. Do you have this?"

"I do," Lord Azkaban replied, giving her one exact pint of his blood.

"Very well. We are required to stand at equidistant points about the perimeter of the Isle. Each of us will take one fifth of Azkaban's blood, and dowse our chosen points with it. Then we step into it and begin. As I know that we all of us know how to complete the warding, there should be no questions. Are we ready?"

After receiving nods from her contemporaries, Rowena chanted a spell and five glowing pillars of light appeared. Each made their way to the spot they would call home for the next six hours.

They poured the blood, stepped into the liquid that was slowly seeping its way into the very grounds of Azkaban Isle, and began chanting. Six hours later, a dome shimmered into place above the Isle with Castle Azkaban at its center, expanding one half mile into the ocean beyond the shores. Azkaban was protected forevermore, or until the blood of Lord Azkaban's line was no more. Five weary and magically exhausted individuals bade each other a good eve, and went to their beds. They were required to remain on the Isle for six days to allow the wards to fully cement themselves.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

The Lord Azkaban and the Lord Slytherin were found the next morning eating breakfast and discussing the wards. Azkaban was delighted to find that his bane—the Dementors—were forever bound to the Isle and the Lord of Azkaban. There were anti-Apparation and anti-Portkey wards involved. If the Lord of Azkaban were standing on Azkaban soil, all those who tried to harm him would be expelled from the Isle and into the sea, never allowed to return. The current Lord would never realize that any of his more enterprising descendants could use this to their advantage. Of course, he would never think to tell them of this, either. Only Salazar recorded that bit of information, and then only in Parseltongue because everyone knew how rare Parselmouths were.

Rowena was sitting in the drawing room of Castle Azkaban, the receiving room the Lady of Azkaban if you will, when she went into a trance. Helga, who had been conversing with the Lady Ravenclaw, knew the signs and spelled a quill to take the prophecy down.

"_The Lords shall fight_

_Of Snake and Wraith_

_With venom foul_

_They break the faith_

_And ere the battle_

_shall be o'er_

_A Lord lies dead_

_Forevermore_

_Purity lost_

_And ne'er regain'd_

_Shall be redeemed_

_When love attain'd"_

Rowena came from her trance directly into a state of unconsciousness. Helga read the lines over and over and feared what they could mean. She daren't show it to Salazar or Azkaban. Not if what she believed were true. She could only hope, and speculate on what the future would bring.


	2. The Prisoner

**Myths of Azkaban: Legend of the Lord**

**Chapter One: The Prisoner**

Harry Potter sat in the courtroom staring up at the Wizengamot before him. He couldn't believe it. Here he was, being sent to Azkaban for breaching the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, the International Statute of Secrecy, and using magic to harm an upstanding citizen and member of the Ministry. The irony was evident. He turned seventeen today. Two days ago, he had been fighting for his life and the lives of Dudley's Gang.

_Harry was standing in front of twelve year old Mark Evans, protecting him from the abuses of Dudley Dursley and his gang of miscreants. Dudley kept telling his friends that it wasn't worth it, but he refused to tell them why. They would never understand that 'Big D' was scared of his scrawny cousin because of something that doesn't exist. Of course, they never knew that magic was real, and never would. But suddenly, Harry heard a series of 'pops' all around him, and wizards in black robes and hooded faces appeared. Now Harry was defending the bullies from the bigger bullies. Harry fired off curse after curse at the Death Eaters, hitting some and missing others. But there were far too many of them for Harry to take on by himself. Dudley and his gang were standing there with slack jaws as Harry fought the wizards and fought well. Only Dudley_ _realized the extent of what this meant. The bad guys were on his street, in the evening true, but it was still light out. Harry was using magic in the presence of Muggles, something even Dudders knew was illegal unless absolutely necessary. And he had a feeling this constituted 'necessary.' And Harry was using magic before his seventeenth birthday, also illegal. This was bad. The Death Eaters disappeared as more 'pops' sounded and many wizards and witches wearing scarlet robes appeared. Aurors. But one had been there before the rest, and had seen to it that the Muggles were obliviated before the others arrived. He was Auror Dawlish, and Harry had no clue how the man got there without a resulting 'pop' to indicate his apparation. But he had his suspicions, which were confirmed when he arrested Harry for assaulting an Auror and using magic both underage and in front of Muggles. The Muggles agreed to Dawlish's story, thus resulting in Harry being hauled into the Ministry to sit in a cell and await his trial. He was only thankful that they hadn't snapped his wand right away, opting instead to wait for the end of his trial. That gave him some small measure of hope that he would be able to receive a fair trial. He should have known it was not to be._

Harry shook his head, glad that he had some people still on his side. But the defense's side was weak, and out-numbered. Dumbledore wasn't there, but from what Harry understood from McGonagall, the Headmaster believed in him, but Fudge had done something to detain both the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress. Snape had stealthily slipped Harry a message from her. Nobody would believe that Snape was on Harry's side after all, he hated Harry Potter, right? But Severus Snape couldn't testify. No matter that he was a spy; he was still a known Death Eater. The Wizengamot would never believe him. And Fudge had them all in the palm of his hand. Ron and his mum believed every word of what they were told. It had even got to the point where Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore had gone a few rounds verbally during Order meetings. Dumbledore had finally banned any talk of Harry during meetings simply to keep the peace. Hermione was torn between the 'evidence' the Ministry had, and what she knew of Harry. She didn't go to his trial, not wanting to be pulled to one side or the other. What hit Harry the hardest was Ron's betrayal versus Draco Malfoy's belief in his innocence. His enemy for the previous six years had stood up for him when his best mate of those same six years testified against him, saying Harry had gone 'Dark.' The Wizarding World was shocked. A Malfoy defending a Potter, while a Weasley stood against that same Potter. And not just any Potter, but the Savior of the Wizarding World. The whole of the magical community was torn in half, some believing in Harry's guilt, the others his innocence.

Ron Weasley fumed over his ex-best mate turning to the side of the Dark. He had testified that Harry experienced violent mood swings ever since his fifth year, when Voldemort first started entering his mind. That bit of information was damning enough. The Dark Lord Voldemort could enter into the Boy-Who-Lived's mind. There was a danger there that had not been present before, and many condemned Albus Dumbledore for hiding it from the world. Ron snickered to himself when he thought back to Potter's hope that he would be able to testify in his own defense. Fudge vetoed that idea before it got off the ground. There would be "no use of the Dark Arts" in his courtroom!

* * *

Harry sat in the boat that ferried prisoners and others to and from Azkaban Island. He stared straight ahead, his once-vivid green eyes dull and frightened. He wasn't fearful of staying in the prison itself, because he thought of that as merely an extended stay at the Dursley's. What he feared were the Dementors. They affected him terribly. He was sure he'd be insane in no time. A life stay in Azkaban for assaulting an Auror. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. One thing he knew for sure was that Dawlish was there before the other Aurors, and he hadn't apparated in after the disapparation of the Death Eaters. Which meant he had to be one of them. He was working for Voldemort, and Dawlish had seized his chance to take care of his Master's nemesis once and for all. 

As Harry stepped out of the boat and onto the Island, he felt a tingle. Assuming it was the wards, he continued on with his guards into the prison, and prepared himself to face the Dementors. But they were not there. All the way down to his cell, there were no Dementors. No cold, no screams in his head, nothing. He figured that it was always this way when new prisoners were brought in, to save the Aurors from being affected. Two days later, he sat in his cell wondering why there had been no Dementors around at all. Then he remembered. They sided with Voldemort. Like Dawlish. Like so many others. Like the world thought he had done.

* * *

He paced his cell, not even bothering to notice when the Aurors made their hourly pass down his corridor. Likewise, the Aurors barely paid him any mind either, excepting his first week there where many familiar faces—including Dawlish—taunted him. Since then, however, they mostly ignored him, except for when he was processed. Apparently, he had become an anomaly, and they had to process him a few times before they had gotten it right. He was fed on a routine, and if he'd had a watch, he would've been able to set it by that routine. He'd been here for two months now, and had almost no hope for ever leaving. Harry paced around his cell, slowing as he felt eyes on him. This was new. An Auror was standing outside, watching him. But he wasn't dressed in the scarlet robes of the Ministry Auror force. He was wearing what looked like battle-robes to Harry, who had only ever seen them in catalogues for duelers. They were sleeveless, and a very deep purple with a very dark green trim and lining. They were obviously made of the very best dragon-hide one could buy, and apparently tailored to their wearer. The robes were form fitting down the torso until they reached the waist, where they split both the front and back of the robes down to the ankles, allowing for ease of movement. There were fitting—not tight, but very closely fitting—under robe garments: long-sleeved top made with a hide that was unfamiliar to Harry, and trousers of the same hide, in a very dark charcoal grey, almost kohl black. Black boots completed the outfit. But what threw Harry off was the crest over the left breast of the outer robes. It was a shield with a background in the same deep purple of the robes, but this was different. It was iridescent, shimmering almost like purple flames against the man's chest. The foreground was a horse in the same green as the trim, rearing on its hind legs with its wings unfurled, as if for flight, or it was very angry. 

"Come with me, Mr. Potter," the man spoke in a deep voice. Harry started from his inspection of the man, and nodded wearily. He didn't know why they wanted him this time, but he was definitely glad to get out of his cell. He followed the man down a corridor he'd never been down before. Away from where the Aurors usually took him, so he understood this was not another processing mishap. If only he knew what it was.

Harry was led into a large, circular room that housed one long table, and three individuals. Two men and one woman. The woman stood and nodded briskly, all business.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter. I am Alexi Bastille, Head of the Political Liason office. This is Roger Quentin," here she pointed to a man in his forties, sandy blond hair and brown eyes, "he is Head of the Prison Azkaban Guards." Roger stood and nodded his head before taking his seat. The other man, a grizzled old man with definite military bearing, was introduced next. "And this is Terrence Riker, Head of the Azkaban Military Force." He, too, stood and nodded before sitting again. "Together, we are the Triumvirate of Azkaban. We hold this nation under independent status as the governing body of Azkaban, in lieu of our Lord Azkaban returning to us."

Harry nodded, quite thoroughly confused now. "Err… nice to meet you all, but… pardon me, but what does this all have to do with me?" he asked.

Alexi smiled, a tight smile that was nevertheless genuine, and re-took her own seat. "Please have a seat, Mr. Potter, and all will be explained."

**AN: So, what do you think? Am I going too fast for you? I mean, the two months that Harry was in his cell was a lot of boring, repetitive nonsense that I decided to skip over. Anyhow, let me know what you think. **


	3. Oh, Lord!

**Myths of Azkaban: Legend of the Lord**

**Chapter Two: Oh, Lord!**

Harry sat there, resting his head in his hands. He was in a daze. '_How?'_ he thought to himself. '_How could it be true? One hundred and forty seven years without one, and now they name _me_! I don't understand. They said it runs through my father's line. How could it have been so long, then? It's not like my father was a muggle-born or anything! He was a pureblood!'_ Harry shook those thoughts off, still trying to figure the whole mess out.

_Alexi_ _spoke at length about Azkaban Isle and its inhabitants. Harry never knew there even _was _a city centered on the Isle. Well, a village more like, but still. Prison Azkaban, as Alexi called it, was only a small part of the Isle itself. Its function was to provide a place for wizarding criminals of the UK_ _and Azkaban to be held. It was not—like Harry had been led to believe—under Ministry control. The Aurors were allowed to patrol the prison halls under sufferance from the Triumvirate. They felt that it was imperative that Azkaban Isle have a good working relationship with the UK_ _Ministry, as well as with other Ministries across the globe. Harry began drifting, thinking of what Sirius had gone through as a prisoner, and what he may have had to face were the cells of Azkaban not allotted to Ministry criminals as well. Sirius wouldn't have had to face the Dementors for twelve long years, but then again, he may not have been able to escape had he been anywhere else. Someplace that didn't rely wholly on the Dementors for security. But now, with the Dementors gone, the Aurors and Azkaban guards had to patrol. Alexi regained his attention from this train of thought rather abruptly. She was discussing the Castle Azkaban, and saying that once Harry had finished the tests, they would transfer his belongings there. _

"_Pardon?"_ _Harry asked._

_Alexi_ _smiled that tight smile again. "After you have completed the tests, the examinations if you will, then you and your belongings will be moved to Castle Azkaban. Provided, of course, that you pass them._

"_What tests?"_

"_We have a series of tests that you must partake in, proving who you are," Roger Quentin spoke up for the first time. His voice was gravelly and his brown eyes were hard, jaded. _

_Harry blinked. And blinked again. "I'm Harry Potter, Sir. Son of James and Lily Potter." Here, Harry gave a sad smile. "Scourge of the Wizarding World."_

_The old man, Riker, smirked. "But you could be so much more," he said._

_Alexi_ _nodded. "Indeed. That is what the tests are for. Now, if you'll follow me, Mr. Potter?"_

_She swept her hand to the side, indicating a door that led into a passage behind her. _

_Harry followed the Triumvirate down the passageway and into what appeared to be a potions lab of sorts. But it was more sterile and clinical than what he was used to. Professor Snape's lab was dark, dreary and menacing; much like the man. This was more like a muggle clinic, like what he'd seen when Dudley_ _went to the doctor. _

_A man was waiting for them with several cauldrons, phials, and goblets arrayed on a table before him. Harry gulped audibly. He hated potions; they all tasted sickly and disgusting. _

_The man gestured Harry closer to him, smiling kindly as Harry approached._

"_I need to take a sample of your blood to finish the final potion. Three drops should suffice."_

_He semi-willingly gave his blood to the man, slightly apprehensive about it. If Snape never taught him anything else, it was that Blood Potions were very, very dangerous. But he knew he had no choice, and that it would be simpler and easier on him if he just gave it to them. He sat at one of the many tables when indicated, and answered questions that had no discernable connection. They questioned him under veritaserum about his life. The questions seemed innocuous enough to him, but were apparently more than they appeared. While the potion bubbled away, fusing his blood into it, they relentlessly asked him about his childhood, his feelings about other people—individual and in groups—and his allegiances. How he felt about Dark Arts, his proclivities for fighting them, and why he fought them. What did he feel about Voldemort? Did he ever think he may side with Voldemort? _

Harry thought about the questions again. Especially his feelings on the Dark Arts. He believed at the time that his answer startled them, that they thought he was going to become the next Dark Lord. He learned he was wrong soon enough.

"_How do you feel about the Dark Arts, Mr. Potter?" Quentin had asked._

_Harry thought about that for a moment. He had done a lot of thinking about that for a while now. At least two years, since Sirius had died. _

"_I think there are more to them than what the Ministry makes them out to be. They are not all evil, you know. They are considered Dark because of the power needed to use them. But really now. The Killing Curse can be a merciful death for one who is terminally ill or dying a very painful death. The Imperious Curse can force a patient to have an amputation, for instance, instead of letting the infections fester until the whole body dies. Of course, that would only be in extreme cases. It could force submission on one who is delirious, however, to accept medical treatment. There is no good use of the Cruciatus Curse, although I understand that it came about when Inquisitions and questioning under torture was widely used and accepted. The Dark Arts are more aptly named as the Grey Arts, because there are good and bad for their use. Of course, there are good and bad for almost all spells. Alohamora can unlock a drawer that has sharp knives that a child can get hold of. Expelliarmus can knock a man unconscious. Incendio can burn a person's skin off or raze their home to the ground. Intent is what matters behind all of the spells, charms, curses and hexes used in the magical world."_

_The Triumvirate stared at him, stunned by his answer. _

Harry smiled slightly as he remembered that. He returned to his reminiscences.

_Alexi_ _told him the potion was completed and that it proved irrevocably who he was. She said that the questioning would all become clear to him when he learned what the potion indicated. Then, with five words, they changed his life forever._

"_You are our Lord Azkaban," Alexi Bastille said with a smile._

_Then all four of the people in the room dropped to one knee and paid obeisance to Harry Potter, once prisoner and now Lord of Azkaban._

"But what is to be my sacrifice? Loss of my friends, family? But then, I've already lost them, haven't I?" Harry said to himself, fully aware that he sounded just as crazy as the prisoners of Azkaban. Of course, he had reason to seem so. He had his world flipped upside down again.


	4. Castles and Malfoys and Snapes, Oh My!

**Myths of Azkaban: Legend of the Lord**

**Chapter Three: Castles and Malfoys and Snapes, oh my!**

Harry looked around in awe at the splendor that was Castle Azkaban. It rose from the ground as if Nature herself had created it. It was at the exact center of the Isle, Alexi had told him. She had informed him that the wards were tied into the castle and the grounds of Azkaban. Even she didn't know to what extent. None of the Triumvirate did, as they did not have access to records held in trust for the family of Azkaban. And they couldn't read above half of those anyway, even if they did.

The castle was beautiful; at least, it was to Harry's eyes. It was built on the same lines as Hogwarts, just not near as massive. After all, they wouldn't be housing hundreds of children there, but rather Harry, his family (if he were so inclined) and certain of his close advisors, plus the staff which ran the place.

A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. This was _his_. No one could take it away from him, no matter what they tried. He considered who he knew that could adequately explain everything to him. It had to be a pureblood, or at the very least a half-blood. Or Hermione. But he didn't know how she felt about him; if she had betrayed him or not. Malfoy would know, he was certain. And if he didn't, he knew how to find out. Snape would know as well. So would Voldemort. He snickered to himself at the last thought. Like he would ever voluntarily ask Voldemort for _anything_. But he decided he just might invite a few Death Eaters for a couple of days. Of course, there were a few _other_ Death Eaters he wouldn't mind inviting for a tour of his prison. And an extended holiday within.

But first, he had some missives he needed to send to the Ministries around the world. They needed to be informed of the rise of the Lord of Azkaban with all possible haste, Alexi had told him. And he was going to thoroughly enjoy every word he wrote to the idiots in the British Ministry.

* * *

Severus Snape was eating breakfast in the Great Hall, scowling at the students when the post owls arrived. Surprisingly, he'd received a letter as so many others did. But his was unusual in that it was so rare. He scrutinized the seal of wax, but could not recognize it, so he tucked the roll of parchment away until he was alone. He refused to read anything sent him in full view of the entire school. He resolved to read it during his first free period, which was directly before lunch. That should give him plenty of time to deal with whatever unpleasant news the scroll brought him, for what else could it be _but_ unpleasant news? 

Finally, his last class of the morning -seventh year NEWT level- let out, and he retreated to his office to peruse his letter. He was, understandably, quite shocked at what was revealed to him.

_Professor S. Snape,_

_2 October 1997_

_I have the honor of being Lord to a small nation, and find myself in the dubious position of knowing next to nothing about it. I have those upon whom I may presume to ask questions, but find that I am unwilling to divulge the extent of my ignorance in these matters to those who depend upon me to lead and protect them. I have left the running of my 'estate' in the hands of those who cared for it before I came of age to accept my inheritance until the first of the year. They alone understand my lack of knowledge, and my inability to subject my people to doubt and lack of confidence in one who should appear strong at all times. Therefore, I have made inquiries as to the proper people that I may see, confide in, and trust not to spread discord among my people, and the answer that came to me was surprising. It appears that one who resides here has the utmost confidence in the abilities of yourself and one other, and wavering confidence in a third. Therefore, I would like to invite you to spend at least part if not all of the Winter Holidays here in my residence. Please answer as soon as is convenient, but no later than 30 November. _

_Yours,_

_The Lord of Azkaban and All Surrounding Isles_

Affixed below the signature was the same seal that Severus had seen on the wax binding the scroll. The Seal of Azkaban. Not that of the lesser Triumvirate, but that of the Lord himself. Severus was speechless. He knew he had to consider carefully before deciding what he would do as either choice could present pitfalls and benefits. It was the chance of pitfalls that worried the Slytherin, however. He refused to walk into something without knowing as much as possible about it. He decided that to make his decision, he would have to research all known information on Azkaban and its Lords.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stopped outside of his Head of House's office, unsure as to whether he should confide in the man about the letter he received. Finally deciding on a course of action, he knocked. At the command to enter, he strode into the office with his customary arrogance. Only when the door was shut did he drop the facade and become himself. 

"Mr. Malfoy. What can I do for you?" Severus asked.

"Sir, I... well, I got an invitation today and don't know if I should accept it or not. I was hoping for some advice on the matter from you," Draco replied.

Severus stared at the young man in front of him, unsure if he wanted to ask or not. Finally, he jumped in with both feet, like the Gryffindors that he so scorned.

"An invitation? To where, may I ask?"

"Azkaban. Apparently, there is a Lord of Azkaban that I'd never heard of, and he's decided to invite me for the Winter Hols. What do you think?"

"I think that you should consider very carefully before you commit yourself in either direction. I myself received a similar invitation, and intend to take all of the time allotted for me to answer. You should do likewise. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, Sir," Draco replied. With a nod for the older man, he took himself off to the Slytherin Dorms.

* * *

Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge looked at the parchment in front of him in utter disbelief. He couldn't believe it! How dare the man? He read over the missive again, though the words were branded into his brain. 

_**First Decree of the Lord of Azkaban and All Surrounding Isles**_

_It is with great relish that I present the Ministry of Magic with this Decree. Due to the restoration of the Lord Azkaban to the throne of Azkaban Isle, the Ministry of Magic is no longer required to maintain a presence on said Isle. The Minister of Magic will remove all forces from the Isle posthaste, or the Ministry of Magic will face dire consequences. The Ministry of Magic of Great Britain has thirty (30) days to comply before their presence is forcibly removed from Prison Azkaban and Azkaban Isle._

And there, half hidden by this First Decree, was yet another missive from the Isle of Azkaban.

_**Second Decree of the Lord of Azkaban and All Surrounding Isles**_

_The Ministry of Magic is forbidden from inspecting Prison Azkaban without prior knowledge of and permission from the Lord Azkaban. Permission must be given in writing at least two weeks prior to the scheduled inspection, and must have the official Seal of Azkaban affixed. All documents sent by the Lord Azkaban are invalid unless the official Seal of Azkaban is affixed, and properly pressed. _

The audacity of the man! If there even was such a person. For all of Fudge's years, he had never known there to be a Lord of Azkaban, and he wasn't quite sure that he believed there was one now. He dispatched a message for his Junior Under-secretary to search all records of Azkaban and its inhabitance by Ministry personnel and rulings. Then he sent a note off to Dumbledore. For all his faults, the old man knew his history, and he was, well, _old_ after all.

* * *

The beginning of November was a time that Harry would remember with fondness for the rest of his life. As he had studied the laws of his new land, the Ministry had been trying to find a way around his decree. When the allotted thirty days were up, all of the Ministry people stationed on the Isles were found beached the next morning. Azkaban had taken pity on them and deposited them on the beach of the Mainland, rather than in the middle of the ocean. Still, he found it quite amusing. As did the _Daily Prophet_, from what he understood.

* * *

As November drew to a close, Harry sat in the library of Castle Azkaban, reading about lines of power and how your geographic location played a part in how much magical power you could actually tap into. There were the body's reserves, the body's main flow of power, and then there were the pockets of external magical energy that were so great nature couldn't contain them. Hogwarts was a prime example of that, as the magical flows of many different currents intersected there and created overflowing pools of energy. He looked up as one of the staff appeared at the door holding a stack of letters. Harry waved the man in and thanked him, taking the letters. He sorted through them, tossing some off to the side to be opened later, and placing others in a pile to be opened immediately. Yet more were in an 'other' pile, for which he honestly had no idea what to do with them. 

He smiled as he recognized both the Potions Master's spiky writing, and Malfoy's elegant cursive. He tore into those two letters with unseemly haste and no decorum, but he didn't care one whit about decorum just then. He had to know if they were coming. His eyes scanned both letters and a smile crept across his face, blossoming into a wide grin. They were actually coming! Now, to make the arrangements to pick them up.

* * *

Harry had learned much during his two and a half months as Lord of Azkaban, but he didn't know near what he should to rule the small nation. He was reading everything he could get his hands on, and meeting often with the Triumvirate to discuss what he needed to do come the first of the year, but he was still unprepared. He knew it, and couldn't wait for Malfoy to arrive so he could talk the blond into giving him 'Aristocrat Lessons'. Not how to be a pompous git, but how to carry himself, and exude the image of power and confidence. And Snape. That man was going to be his salvation, he was sure. The Potions Master on Azkaban wasn't nearly as skilled as Severus Snape, yet he had been badgering the Triumvirate and Harry both to use potions to check his blood. He said he found something he didn't like in the preliminary tests done on Harry, but Harry continuously refused to allow him to do more. He meant no offence to the man, but he wanted Snape to do whatever tests needed to be done. Harry knew without a doubt that Snape would never mess up a potion. Their man may be a Master, but Snape. . . well, he was a Natural. 

Harry had let the time get away from him while he was meeting with the Triumvirate and the Potions Master. He had been awaiting the arrival of the Slytherins when the man arrived and started harping on Harry again about letting the man test him. Harry was arguing quite forcefully with him, and didn't notice the guard open the door to the meeting room. Harry had left instructions that the two guests were to be brought directly to him as soon as they arrived.

"I don't understand, Hiram, why you are still going on about this. I told you a month ago that I would wait for the arrival of Severus Snape and ask him to do it. I mean no offence to you at all, as I know you are a Master in your field, but Snape is a Natural as well as a Master. If he refuses to do the testing -which I doubt for he is a man known to take on challenges- then you may do it. But until I have his decision, we will not discuss this anymore. You should know before the day is out, hopefully, as he is due here at any moment. Now, do I have your agreement to drop this until he decides?" Harry asked the man.

Hiram Mithran nodded in resigned acceptance. The guard at the door cleared his throat.

"My Lord? Your guests have arrived."

Harry looked up eagerly and nodded to the man.

"Show them in."

The guard stepped back and waved his companions into the room as Harry stood and stepped around the table to greet them.

"Potter! What are you doing here?" Severus asked.

Malfoy simply gaped at his former schoolmate.

"Sir! You will kindly show some respect to the Lord Azkaban while you are in his house!" Alexi scolded.

Harry sniggered.

"It's quite alright, Alexi. I understand that our dear Professor Snape has had quite a shock. It looks as though Mr. Malfoy hasn't fared any better. Besides, I do believe I would die of shock if either of them so much as inclined their heads in respect to me. We have far too much history between us for anything less than the familiar."

Harry waved towards some empty chairs and offered refreshments.

"Have a seat, gentlemen, and I will explain exactly why I asked you here."

Malfoy spluttered at him as he sat down. "You're the _Lord of Azkaban_? How can this be?"

* * *

**A/N: This is all I have so far, and I already know that I am a VERY slow updater. But that cannot be helped. So... ah well. Review, let me know what you think.**


	5. Starts of Beginnings

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, writing is therapeutic and not for profit.

**A/N:** Edited to correct the embarrassing use of the wrong last name. v.v Fail. 15 September, 2012.

* * *

_**Myths of Azkaban: Legends of the Lord**_

**Chapter Four: Starts of Beginnings**

Harry laughed; a full, happy sound. Malfoy would never change. As he and his guests settled into their seats, Harry invited the others still in the room to join them.

"Please allow me to introduce everyone," Harry said, shocking the two Slytherins more. "Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts. Mr. Draco Malfoy, seventh year student at Hogwarts and Scion of the Family Malfoy. Ms. Alexi Bastille, Head of the Political Liaison Office; Mr. Roger Quentin, Head of the Prison Azkaban Guards; and Mr. Terrence Riker, Head of the Azkaban Military Force. They make up the Triumvirate of Azkaban. And lastly, Master Hiram Mithran, Head Potions Master of Azkaban Isle."

Murmurs of greeting went around the company as each person was introduced. Harry allowed a moment for everyone to settle before he brought their attentions back onto himself.

"Now, before I get into the main reasoning of why we're all here, I understand Hiram has his own work to be getting back to, so we shall quickly settle a matter for him. Professor Snape," here, Harry turned to the older man, "part of the reason I asked you here is because Hiram did some testing on me at the beginning of my stay here. Before I tell you exactly what he did, I want to make it clear that you are under no obligation whatsoever to assist in this matter. With no offense to Hiram, who is an excellent Potions Master, my instincts urge me to ask you to consider doing the more in depth testing that is required to make sure all is well in my body. So there you have it, I am asking for your help. Before you protest and decline, let me explain exactly what has been done so far. When it first became evident to the Triumvirate that the Lord Azkaban was on the Isle, they were concerned. With good cause. Having not had a Lord on the Isle in centuries, to have the processing tell them that the possible Lord was a prisoner was, well, worrisome. In order to verify my claim to the 'throne of Azkaban' as it were, the Triumvirate had to test me. There were interrogations and questing in my mind and there were potions. The one that is causing us concern now was a blood potion. While it verified that I am indeed Lord of Azkaban and All Surrounding Isles, it also showed some anomalies in my blood. Now –with all due respect to Master Mithran, because he _is_ a Master and extremely loyal—I don't feel all that comfortable letting someone who is very nearly a stranger at my blood. We both remember what happened the last time _that_ happened." Here, both guests and Harry shuddered as they remembered _exactly_ what happened last time. "So really, Professor, it would be beneficial to me to have someone whom I trust implicitly," –an apologetic glance tossed to Hiram—"doing tests on my blood. So, would you kindly consider assisting in this matter, and perhaps conferring with Hiram before you make a decision?" Harry pleaded with Snape, hoping the man didn't hate him so much that he would refuse outright.

Severus Snape considered and nodded shortly, making plans to meet with Master Mithran later in the day. Harry gave a soft sigh of relief and nodded to Hiram when asked if the man could leave now. After the door closed behind him, Harry turned to the other five people and nodded shortly.

"Now that's done with, the reason we are all here. The running of Azkaban depends greatly on the outcome of this meeting."

At the skeptical looks by the Slytherins, Harry just sighed.

"It's true, you know. The Triumvirate cannot continue to run our little nation now that the Lord has been found and ensconced. We would fall apart," Alexi said. Harry had told all three that it would be difficult to convince the stubborn men that all he said was true, and it seemed he was right. Though neither had yet to say anything since they began meeting, both had made it more than obvious that they thought Harry Potter as the Lord of Azkaban was a farce.

"There are certainly more productive things we could be doing to assist our Lord Azkaban than babysitting his rulings," Riker said gruffly, not even glancing at the amused look Harry was giving him.

"Too true, Terrence. You could be home babysitting your grandchildren," Harry replied, garnering a chuckle from all three native Azkabanians.

"Now, what I am asking from you both, is, well… to teach me how to rule."

Draco sat in shock. The Gryffindor Golden Boy was asking for The Prince of Slytherin's help? And not only his, but the Head of Slytherin House, too? Would wonders never cease?

"So what, exactly, are you asking, Potter?" Draco questioned.

"From you? Aristocracy lessons. I mean, I don't need to learn to be a pompous git, I'll leave that to you," Harry replied with a smirk, "but I need my people to see confidence and power when they see me, so they can have confidence in my power to govern them well. I need to learn the proper etiquette for hosting events as well as for reprimanding citizens. I need to know what I wear for which occasion. I need to know which bloody fork to use for which course!"

Draco gaped, then the last sentence processed in his mind and he began snickering. Harry's eyes shot up to his, then his lips twitched, and soon both young men were choking on their laughter.

Turning to the Professor with eyes still twinkling, Harry continued. "Mostly, Sir, I'm asking you to do the blood testing. If there is any knowledge you would like to impart, that would be wonderful as well. But I won't ask for anything you don't wish to give."

The dark man looked pensive, but as he'd already consented to the blood work, he affirmed that he would consider other ways he could assist. His research into the Family Azkaban bore little fruit, but what was discovered was quite interesting indeed. Severus was hoping the library here would have more information on the elusive Azkaban, as well as why nobody knew Potter was to inherit.

* * *

Far away, old blue eyes were somber as they rested upon one of the few students who stayed over the holiday. With his parents doing work for the Order, Ronald Weasley opted to be with whatever friends were remaining at Hogwarts. Albus could have almost foreseen the youngest Weasley boy's betrayal, had he but looked. It was, after all, true to the pattern the young man had already established. Use Harry's fame and good name to his advantage, then turn on him the instant his good name is smeared or he has something the redhead wants and is jealous of. The boy should have been a Slytherin. Even Molly showed a predilection for that, if the children's fourth year was any indication. The moment she read that Hermione and Harry were having a vicious triangle with Mr Krum, the woman wanted nothing to do with Hermione –as the poor girl was the one painted in a bad light. He did notice that the girl had been spending more time with the Ravenclaws this term, however. She still ate with the Weasley boy, and was seen going to any shared classes with him, but that seemed to be the extent of their interactions. She, at least, seemed to have realized that Harry was the glue that held the trio together. Without him, neither had much in common.

Tired eyes strayed from the students to where his Potions Master would normally be seated. He wondered at the man's taking a holiday. He hadn't done so in over seventeen years, after all. But it appeared that he would find out only what the younger man wished him to know, as he had yet to find any truly useful information. All he was able to glean before the professor left was that it had nothing to do with Voldemort. A good sign, surely. Perhaps the man was finally forgiving himself. One could always hope.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve, and the castle had sat down to supper when Harry finally broached a subject that was sensitive for him: Hermione. He looked to Draco – who would see more of the girl than Severus, having several classes with her – for information on if she believed in his guilt.

"She doesn't hang round the weasel much, anymore, if that helps," Draco had replied. And it did. But Harry merely lifted a brow in silent question, asking for more. "She's always around Ravenclaws now. As for your other admirers, I _do_ know that your pet wolf has been sniffing around, trying to get information about your farce of a trial and why the use of veritaserum was disallowed. I understand that the Headmaster has been trying to find information, as well, but I don't know much there. Perhaps Severus...?"

Both young men turned to the Potions Master with inquiring looks. He gave them a bland look in return, before placing his silverware down.

"It seems that Albus has been stonewalled at every turn when it comes to helping you. Whoever planned this has been thorough. They apparently played on Fudge's dislike and distrust of you, and the very real threat of the Dark Lord. Of course, Albus has pointed out that you were unable to defend yourself, there was no veritaserum used, no pensieve accessed. Auror Dawlish has defamed you to a level I believed only Ms Skeeter could get."

Harry nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as they all finished their meals.

* * *

Harry retired to the library after supper, unsurprisingly followed by both Slytherins. He was eager to learn more of his nation, and was working his way through a shelf of books. He was replacing the last book he had read when he saw _some_thing at the edge of the shelf. A closer look revealed it to be a snake, very similar to one inscribed on a certain sink in Hogwarts. A quick look around and Harry leaned in and hissed "_Open!_" at it. To his great unsurprise, a bit of the wooden support next to the shelf popped open. Inside lay a brown leather covered book. Opening it, he found it to be a journal of some sort. A hidden journal in an old castle? Definitely something to check out!

Back at the large table in the center of the room, Harry began reading. When the blond peered over his shoulder, he was surprised to see that it was nothing more than what appeared to be squiggles.

"What language is that, Potter?"

Harry blinked up at him. "English," he replied, the _duh!_ going unspoken but clearly heard anyway.

The blond shook his head. "No, it's really not." That declaration was enough to rouse the older man's curiosity, and he moved to look at the book, also.

"No, Potter. That is most definitely _not _English. What other languages do you know? Perhaps it is spelled to be translated for the Lord Azkaban?"

Severus' supposition was good, so they assumed that as Lord Azkaban, he could read it. It wouldn't be until the end of the journal that he would find out for sure. What he read already was blowing his mind, though. He turned to the other two with a gleeful look. "Did you know the Dementors are tied to Azkaban Isle?"

_**23 October 2009**_

_**11 June 2011 **_

_**Word Count – Story Only: 1950**_


	6. Bloody Beasts and Where to Find Them

**A/N: **So. Instead of the horrid Five Year Wait between chapters four and five, you only had just under two years. I'm getting better, I guess? o.O At any rate, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. And just to answer a question I've gotten a few times, no. This will not be slash. As much as I'm a Snarry shipper, I began this in the spirit of Rorsharch's Blot's fic, so it will be het in as much as there is a main pairing. There may be slash pairings in it, but Harry will be paired with a female. The pairing is not central to the story, however, and so will only matter as far as the prologue would indicate it should. To those who have been with me since 2005, thanks for sticking around! This _will_ get finished! Eventually!

* * *

_**Myths of Azkaban: Legends of the Lord**_

**Chapter Five: Bloody Beasts and Where To Find Them **

It took a day and a half for Harry to finish the journal. It detailed only seven days, but he had read and reread passages to make sure he fully understood it. But when he'd finally finished and saw who had written it, he laughed. With a grin, he went to find Draco.

* * *

Severus worked carefully on the potion. Potter's blood was a precious commodity, and he didn't want to take any chances. There were, however, definite anomalies in it, as Hiram had noted. The man worked well with Severus, which was a relief to a man who has dealt with nothing but children when it came to brewing for the last seventeen years. He consulted with the brewer who first noticed the problems.

"What all have you found, Master Mithran?" he inquired.

"Definitely two creatures, Master Snape. Two diametrically opposed natures. Possibly a magical block. And yourself? What have you found?" Hiram Mithran replied.

"Much the same as yourself, it would seem."

The Azkabanian smirked slightly that his Lord's choice found nothing more than he himself had. It also made him feel better about his abilities; that little bit of doubt that had crept in, no matter that he understood his Lord's decision regarding the use of his blood. He was made aware of the circumstances of the last time his Lord's blood had been taken when he inquired about the level of trust shown to the Outsider. Lord Azkaban had told the tale himself, and how his trust in the Outsider came from years of mutual loathing and yet the man never once tried to actually _hurt_ his Lordship. Only virulently disliked him. Even that seemed gone, from what Hiram had witnessed.

"But what could cause this, I wonder?" Snape was thinking aloud, something that amused Hiram to no end considering that outside of brewing, he hadn't seen the man show even half so much emotion. "There are charms, of course, to perhaps identify the creatures, but what of the block?" Snape descended into incoherent mumbling as he began assembling the ingredients for yet another potion. Hiram was pleased that his Lordship was willing to cover all costs pertaining to the potions, otherwise the visiting Master would have long since drained Hiram's supplies.

* * *

Severus met the two young men in the library. Both looked up and gave him Cheshire grins. Immediately wary, he settled across from the Lord Azkaban and arched an eyebrow.

"And what, pray tell, has the both of you grinning like Longbottom with a new plant?"

Draco appeared to take offence to that comparison, but Harry almost _twinkled_ at him. "Nothing much," Harry began. "Just that the journal I was reading was apparently written in Parselscript by Slytherin himself. And it details the spell necessary to recall the Dementors from Voldemort's control."

Both young men smirked even as Severus narrowed his eyes into the Snape Death Gaze, version four point oh.

"This had better not be a prank, Mr Potter," he growled lowly. To have those abominations gone from meetings and Britain itself would be wondrous!

Harry's smirk softened into a smile, understanding lighting his eyes as he held his hands up in a gesture of innocence. "I'm serious, Professor. I have to figure out where I'm going to stash them so they don't bother any of my people, but I have the ability to make them return, never to leave Azkaban again."

Severus sighed, shaking his head at the naïveté of the Boy-Who-Lived. Before he could say anything, however, Draco gleefully spoke up.

"Don't be daft, Potter! As their Lord and Master, you _have_ to provide for their needs. You can't simply _stash them away_! Much as the thought appeals to me, you must see to it that they are cared for. Putting them back in the prison would cover that necessity, since the prisoners will provide the sustenance the Dementors will need to survive. And their survival is very much your concern," the Malfoy scion informed Harry.

Harry slumped back into his chair. "It appears I still have a _lot_ to learn," he said on a sigh.

"At least your deportment lessons are serving you well," was Draco's sarcastic reply.

"Hey!" Harry protested. "I'm allowed to slouch in private!"

"Not if you want it to be natural in public," Draco supplied.

With grudging resignation, Harry corrected his posture to the blond's satisfaction. Harry rolled his eyes when he saw that Snape was smirking at him, but he was in too good of a mood to let it bother him as he once would have. Instead, he inquired about any progress that might have been made on the man's project.

"Have you had a chance to study your heritage yet, Potter?" the man asked instead.

Harry cocked his head as he considered the question. "Somewhat. What aspect, exactly, are you wondering about?"

"Specifically, do you have any magical creature blood?"

Green eyes blinked slowly in confusion. "Um, no? Not that I came across, at any rate. Why?"

"We've found creature aspects in your blood. Do you have any idea how they got there and what creatures they're from?"

Harry though on it for a couple minutes before an idea occurred to him. "Is it possible that bodily fluids could transfer aspects? I mean, if I were bit by something, for instance."

"If it was a magical creature and it broke the skin, then any fluid getting into your blood stream could pass certain bits on, I suppose," Severus answered slowly.

"Because I was bit by a basilisk in second year, then Fawkes cried into the wound, so maybe his tears or the basilisk's venom did something?"

"Two diametrically opposed creatures," Snape murmured, recalling how Master Mithran had phrased it earlier that day. "Yes, Potter, that just may do it. It would account for what we found, certainly. Except for the block."

"Block, sir?"

"A magic block, Potter. Do you know anything about that?"

"What's a magic block?" Harry was confused.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Draco drawled haughtily. "There's something blocking some of your magic. There are different kinds of blocks, of course. There are total blocks, which would effectively leave you as magical as a squib, then there are blocks that target certain types of magic or certain magical aspects or any number of other things. To know for sure what specific block it is, you would need a Charms Master."

Harry hummed thoughtfully and nodded. Azkaban had a Charms Master, of course, but Alexi had warned him that she wasn't sure where the woman's loyalties actually lay. So he was wary of letting the woman near him. Oddly enough, it wasn't anything to do with him being Harry Potter this time; rather, she held a possible grudge against him as Lord Azkaban. It was a novel feeling, but Harry was sure that he'd be sick of it fast. Twice as many identities to worry over now.

"I'll have to see what I can do about getting a trustworthy one to check me, then," he said.

"Filius would be more than willing to cast any necessary spells, Potter," Snape offered. "He's never doubted you or your intentions, either."

Which wasn't quite the same as saying that Flitwick believed in his innocence, but Harry accepted the assurance that Snape offered him gratefully. It was always nice to know there were others who believed in him.

"I'll owl him, then. I expect he won't be able to do anything until the summer holidays, though," he mused. "That just leaves one more thing. What do you think about using Rita Skeeter to gain my 'freedom' from prison? I would like to go about in Britain again as a free man, even if I'm not confined to a cell anymore."

"How would that hag help?" Draco asked. Harry proceeded to outline his plan, emphasizing that he had some dirt on Skeeter that just might make her the perfect spy. And offering her the exclusive story behind the newly discovered Lord of Azkaban and his plans for the future relationship between Azkaban and the British Ministry should be enough to get her to do a little investigative digging on his behalf. He'd have to extend her an invitation to visit. Soon.

* * *

_**15 September 2012**_

_**28 January 2013**_

_**Word Count: 1373**_


End file.
